


Memories Keep Running From Our Heads

by KitKatCronch



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: But I'll be using the movie character appearances, Canon amount of violence, F/M, I love TMR and wanna fix the canon, Idk how to tag so here we go, My OC - Freeform, There will be romance (kinda) but mostly friendships, This follows my canon, This will follow more along the books than the movie, some canon deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKatCronch/pseuds/KitKatCronch
Summary: My name is Samantha. This is the story of how my friends and I find out about our world and how one boy in particular changes everything very quickly.





	Memories Keep Running From Our Heads

Most of the memories we start out with are the same. A metal box filled with supplies, unending darkness and echoing screams for help, and the silence that rings in your ears until a blinding light is thrust upon you. Sometimes you remember your name, the smallest piece of your past, but most of the time that comes slowly or never. We never know our histories, never know our families, and we can only face each morning knowing that the Creators, the very people who put us here, also put things here to kill us.

At least, that’s what I know now.

Back when I was in the metal cage, stumbling and bruising myself from the less than smooth ride up to the Glade, I knew nothing. Nothing but the darkness, loud screeching of metal, and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Bracing myself against crates helped keep me from being flung around too much, though the cage holding an equally distressed pig caused me to scream and fall on my ass, no doubt also bruising my tailbone in the process. Of course, as soon as the box stopped it’s ascent, I cowered away from the pig, backed myself behind a stack of boxes, and pulled my knees to my chest. It was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, just the neverending darkness that seeps into your subconscious, the kind that makes young children see monsters.

Then, came the blinding light. The creak and squeal of a metal top grated on my ears, made me flinch as the sunlight conquered the inky black area around me. I heard murmured whisperings, something about no greenie this month and the loud clank of someone jumping down into the cage with me made my head swim in paranoia. Who were they and what would the do to me if they found me? When they found me?

I was not going to let myself get trapped down there with a stranger. 

Now, I have no idea what I used to do. From base instinct, I don't feel like I was a fighter or knew anything about fighting. I definitely don't look like I took any sort of self-defense training.

On another base instinct, I also know what a human does in a moment of fear, panic, and adrenaline.

I launched at the stranger as soon as I was able to see even the smallest part of him. It hurt to tumble the way we did, the metal was unforgiving and I even landed on top. I can't imagine what he felt. Even through clothes, getting slammed onto the floor made of anything could potentially hurt.

Me appearing and tackling one of the strangers sent the others I couldn't see because of the bright light into a...I wouldn't say frenzy or panic...just a lot of shouting and surprise. That made my mind lose its small bit of focus on the person under me long enough for him to push me away and pin me down. Well, he pinned my hands down. Everything stilled for a bit after that as I caught my breath, glaring into the face of a boy that had to be in his early teens with a permanent bitch-face expression.

“Found the greenie! It’s a gi-”

I grunted as I kicked up, catching him between his legs and pushing him off. With him groaning in pain, I was able to get back on my feet, breathing like I’d run a marathon instead of a short fight.

Then, I looked up.

A dozen other faces stared down at me, all boys from what I could tell. All of them looked curious, surprised, or amused, some all three. I wonder what I looked like at that point, if, maybe, I looked as foreign and wild as they did to me. 

“Gally, you okay?” One of them called down and I dropped my gaze back to the boy I incapacitated.

He was standing up, keeping his eye on me in case, I guess, I jumped him again. I had to chew the inside of my cheek from smiling to myself about that. Even now, I don’t think of myself as someone who’s a fighter or anything like that, but that moment made me feel like a complete badass. 

“What is wrong with this shank, anyway?”

“Someone ask for a girl?”

“She kicked the klunk out of Gally.”

“Nick’s getting the rope, hang on!”

I backed up until the corner of a box hit my back, keeping my distance from the boy who still hadn’t stopped glaring at me. I really couldn’t blame him, I suppose.

A rope with a loop at the end was tossed down and the boy, Gally, hooked his foot into the loop. It made him finally stop staring at me, at least. It took several of the boys to get enough strength to pull him up. Despite his age, he did seem quite muscled, so it made sense he’d weigh a bit. The rope was tossed back down once he was pulled over the edge, obviously for me to get pulled up next. I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust any of them, but it was also apparent that this had happened several times before, but maybe never a girl.

Rolling my shoulders, I stepped up to the rope and slipped my foot into the loop, wrapping it around my wrist a bit to stabilize myself. It was a weird feeling to be lifted off the ground without your own strength, trusting people I didn’t know.

When my feet hit the ground outside of the box, I was greeted by a large group of dirty faces, ages ranging from young teens to young adults. I wondered what I looked like and how old I was. By now, I can only assume I was maybe...fourteen or fifteen years old then. A lot cleaner, too.

“What’s your name, Greenie?” One of the guys asked me, his face cleaner than some of them.

Without even realizing I was doing it, I felt my eyes narrow at him and brows furrow. “What’s yours?”

My voice was odd to me, like it didn’t quite fit but I also didn’t know enough to tell if I was putting on a different voice. I probably wasn’t unless I was trying to be tougher than I was.

He smirked and something twisted in my gut. I didn’t like that feeling at all. Not only unpleasant, but something was weird with that guy.

“Name’s Nick. I’m actually the leader of this place.”

“And this place is?”

“One thing at a time, Greenie,” his hand clapped onto my shoulder a bit too tightly. “Let’s get you shown around first while the box gets unloaded and let everyone else get back to work, yeah?”

I shrugged his hand off and hesitantly followed him around as he showed me what I now call my home; the Glade. I was shown the Sloppers, Med-Jacks, Slicers, Track-Hoes, Builders, Cooks, and all the keepers. The last he showed me was the Runners, which he waited to show me until the two who were in the Maze still when I arrived. 

Those were the first memories I had when I woke up again for what I could remember as the first time. Confusing, I know, but that’s all I know. There’s more to my story, I just know it. I just have to remember my past.

“Hey, Sam!”

Thoughts break when I hear Minho yelling at me from the Homestead with a bowl of food in his hands. Frypan must be done with lunch now. I brush my hands off on my pants and jog from my place at the gardens, joining Minho and the rest of the runners at their table. Usually, I would sit with the Track-Hoes, but it’s not often that the Runners are actually here during the day. Two of my best friends are runners, so obviously I’m gonna jump at the chance to sit with them. 

Minho pushes me, when I get my food, to the seat between him and Newt, a boy around my age. He grins at me before going back to eating his soup, messy blond hair falling over his forehead as he does. I feel the other boy bump into my side as he climbs onto the bench next to me, flipping an extra spoon in his hand for me.

“Your head in the clouds out there or something?”

I laugh softly. “Hey, some of us actually do physical labor here and have a schedule to keep, Min. Not all of us can count on our dashing looks and ability to outrun our responsibilities.”

I hear Newt let out a snort next to me and Minho pouts before tapping my arm with his own spoon.

“Aw, leave the shank alone, Sammi, you know he can’t take it like he gives it,” Newt says, making me chuckle again.

In a way, I think myself lucky to be in this place, regardless of the dangers around us. After all, I have a great bunch of friends. It’s not terribly bad here.

I just wanna remember.

Until then, I’m happy to spend my time here, stuck with a couple dozen annoying boys that just happen to be my family.


End file.
